


His Paper Garden of Madness

by Beauvoyr



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fantasy, Fluff and Angst, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 07:49:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8048296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beauvoyr/pseuds/Beauvoyr
Summary: Chapter 4:
    
    “Princess…” he murmured, so soft, so brittle, but there were still faint warnings lining his voice. “You’re testing my self-control, aren’t you? Is this what it’s all about?”
  
Wishes are deadly things. A single wish turned you from Elizabeth 3rd the cat to Elizabeth 3rd the human. But what did you sacrifice for this magical moment?





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A wish?_

“Yes, a wish,” said the man, his eyes alight with joy. With an unnecessary flourish he possessed, he perched on Master’s bed without further contemplation and crossed his legs, giving you a wide smile. “Any wish in the world, I’ll grant it for you.”

His words made no sense to you. Not like Master’s. Master always spoke calmly, word by word falling from his lips like a reverent prayer for you to understand. But this stranger—whose sharp fuchsia eyes bore into you like he saw past your façade—made little to no sense at all. You crane your head upwards to gaze at him, curious, for he seemed unperturbed with how he conversed with something like you as though it was a norm for humans.

Which begs the question, actually: Was he human?

“So tell me,” the man began again, oblivious to the questions reflected in your eyes, letting a smirk grace his thin lips, “what will it be, _Elizabeth_?”

* * *

Master had a rough day at work today—no, he had been going through several rough days in a row. You know. Often times Master would overwork himself at his office and wind up home late, when the stars shone overhead and the skyscrapers in the skyline had long past switched off their lights. His fingers would loosen up his necktie, carefully draping it over the settee so that the maid would pick it up tomorrow, and with a movement too graceful to belong to a 26-year-old man, he’d stride over to the bed with his phone in his hands.

You’d seen this cycle for far too long to memorise the way his eyelashes dip over those pewter grey eyes and how a smile settled on his lips whenever he scrolled through something on the phone.

Other times, Master would return home earlier than expected, seemingly done with his workload for the day. Bespoke shoes safely shelved to the side, he stepped into the private expanse of his penthouse with a lighter bounce in his steps. He’d never fail to pick you up and deposit you in his lap as he combed his fingers through your fur— _ah_ , you relished in his touch whenever he scratched behind your ears and gently nuzzle under your jaw, eliciting little mewls and happy purrs for him to enjoy.

“Elizabeth 3rd,” Master would say, a smile already on his lips, “you’re so beautiful, so intelligent…”

His little compliments, his little gestures, his little sighs of satisfaction, they’re everything you loved about Master. A kind man he is, truly a kind man, one whose magnanimity extended not only to you, but to everyone else. Those who deserved his affection and attention aren’t many, but only a few, and you suspected they were the very reason why Master was able to go on this far in his life. Without their support, Master would’ve never made it this far.

Yet… lately, something made Master sad. Terribly, _terribly_ sad.

Night blankets the Seoul skyline, draping darkness over every cranny of his room. A brief outline of Master’s resting figure could be seen behind the mysterious man who made himself at home in Master’s penthouse, sitting on the edge of Master’s very bed. From where you rested on the sofa, you could see the strange man’s cotton blue hair curtaining his eyes, lighting the peculiar frenzy within those bright irises. How he actually got in through Master’s very strict security system, you wouldn’t know, but the one thing you knew was this: He was here to grant a wish. _Your_ wish.

Blinking once, you stole a glance at Master. He slept soundly tonight, nary a movement coming from him except for a light snoring sound. He must’ve been exhausted, you realised, from the day’s troubles at his company. Finding yourself more than wary to protect him, you raised your head.

_Who are you?_ You mewled softly, cocking your head to the side, ears curling curiously. _You don’t smell very… human._

Which was the truth. Humans had a very distinct smell to them, emitting heat and sweat, while this man was the exact paradox of a human’s existence. He smelled like… _nothing._ No perceivable warmth whatsoever. Your nose twitched as you tried to pick up even the faintest scents coming from him, albeit finding nothing. Master always smelled like something pleasant even with the odd things he spritzed on his suits every morning. On the days Master wore nothing to mask his scent, you luxuriated in his musk as you snuggled on his chest, pressing your nose against his nape.

Master smelled like love.

This stranger smelled like danger.

“You don’t need to know about that for now.” He chuckled under his breath like the very thought of exposing his identity to you would put his life in danger. Still, the mirth in his eyes hadn’t faded away. The same cruel smile on his lips remained. “I’m only here to grant your wish… anything that you desire, it can be yours for a price.”

Your tail swished from side to side as your ears perked up. _A price?_ You mewled again, gazing at the man with great scrutiny. _I don’t need anything from you, stranger… Master is all I need._

Somehow, like your very words amused him, the intruder burst into laughter, loud enough to reverberate through Master’s penthouse. Strangely, Master never woke up from the harsh sound. It was as though Master couldn’t hear him at all, which unnerved your very core. The awful noise rattled your nerves and made your fur bristle, but you stood your ground and waited for him to finish his madness. This was no laughing matter; Master was truly the only person you needed, and if Master were to ever go away, then—

No. You couldn’t bear to imagine it.

Master would never go away.

“There’s no use lying to me, Elizabeth,” he murmured your name almost as though he was making a mockery out of the very name that Master treasured. Uncrossing his legs, elbows on his knees, the man leant over to peer closer at you… letting the fuzzy glow of the tubular aquarium in Master’s house highlight the frenzied flash in his eyes. “I can hear your distress. I know what you want. But… you just don’t want to admit it.”

_No,_ you hissed, _you don’t know anything about me. Master—_

“You’re an intelligent cat,” he surmised, tipping his head back, cleanly countering your words. “I know your Master knows about it too. But you haven’t realised it yet. Your Master _needs_ you.”

His words briefly ignited anger, anger that threatened to boil over into claws and hisses and scratches and angry red welts, but as soon as you wanted to pounce on him, you couldn’t. Because… it was true. Master needed you. But… why would he need you when you were always here?

As though the mysterious man fathomed the sudden confusion clouding your thoughts, he gave a brief shrug and waved absently in the air. “He’s going through a tough time… but what can you do for him? You’re a cat, Elizabeth, a _cat_ ,” he echoed in disdain, eyes narrowing into slits, “so other than licking his fingers and pawing his clothes, what else can you do to comfort him?”

You didn’t want to hear the answer.

“Nothing.”

_No_ —

“Nothing, Elizabeth, _nothing,_ ” he repeated the same words, letting them resonate hollowly in the ringing silence of Master’s house. “In the end, you can’t talk to him. You can’t even offer words to console him during his moments of great need. You’ll always be there for him, but you’ll be useless. And at the very end, you’ll be thrown away. Because you’re not a human.”

Such hurtful words filled with malice and hatred. What vendetta did he hold against you? He spat out each sentence and savoured the lingering lash of pain you suffered from his words, despite not betraying any emotion at all. Just for the sake of a single wish, he’d goad you to this extent? If Master were awake and listening to this conversation, he’d scoff and put this man right where he belonged but… Master was asleep, not even once stirring from his slumber.

_Even if Master wishes to throw me away, it’s his decision and not yours,_ you mewled, your tail flicking from side to side in a show of repressed annoyance. _Master knows that I—_

“Elizabeth 3rd…?”

You froze, faltering to a halt.

A sleepy drawl that belonged neither to the stranger nor you. A voice you were familiar with. Master’s voice.

The rustling of sheets told you of his movements; Master was already halfway getting up from his bed, pushing his body off the mattress with an arm, a fluid motion that he habitually repeats every morning. Only, he didn’t stand, choosing to sit upright on the bed, feet planted firmly on the ground. The stranger quirked his eyebrows in feigned surprise at Master’s movements, his expression changing from derision into one of delight at the turn of events. He slipped off the bed and stood up, pocketing his hands just as easily.

“Elizabeth 3rd,” Master repeated, his voice just a touch stronger this time around, as he cranes his neck over his shoulder to search for your presence. “… where are you, Elizabeth 3rd?”

_Over here, Master,_ you answered with a quiet mewl, padding over towards his bed. Paying no mind to the observing intruder, you leapt onto Master’s bed with the true grace of a cat before plodding to him, gently rubbing your head against his side. _I’m here now, Master, don’t worry… I’m here._

Master’s back was broad and warm. Warm, warm all over, just the way you remembered. Instinctively, you purred in pleasure as his hand easily snaked itself around your body and hoisted you into his lap. Over here, just draped over Master’s thighs and basking in his warmth was almost enough to make you forget about the trespasser who lingered just a few meters away, watching in interest. _Almost._

“You were mewling rather loudly,” Master remarked, a sleepy yawn escaping his lips whilst he continued petting your head. “Is something wrong? Were you lonely?”

No, of course you weren’t lonely. It was just that Master wouldn’t understand that you were talking to the trespasser and you hadn’t meant to wake him up. Still… a niggling part of your mind reminded you of what he spoke just a scant second ago: You couldn’t talk to Master. You owned no voice. You were just simply… Master’s pet. Even with all the mewls in the world, you wouldn’t be able to offer a single justification… or comfort for Master. With a tired meow, you nestled your head against Master’s palm and purred as his finger began rubbing your ear.

Master obviously expected no response from you, other than the catlike norm of a meow or a purr. Lost in his thoughts, he repeated his motions, once, twice, thrice.

“Your Master is sad,” the stranger repeated from behind, a lilting glee apparent in his voice. Your ears twitched at his words, tapping your tail sporadically on Master’s thighs out of irritation, but it seemed as though Master couldn’t acknowledge his presence. Or rather, Master couldn’t see him at all. Which was why the man spoke so brazenly now. “See now, little one? You’re just being a burden to your Master because you can’t do anything for him when he’s done _everything_ for you.”

Not even once had Master ever spoken of you as a burden. If anything, you knew he adored you more than everything else he possessed. His medley of limousines, his Rolex watches, his tailored suits, everything he owned amounted to nothing if you weren’t by his side. As Elizabeth 3rd, his pride and joy, you knew you held that much of power over him. Master cherished your every meow. And you, in turned, cherished every moment you spent with him. However… there was nothing you could do to ease his suffering.

He spent sleepless nights gently raking his fingers through your fluffy fur, mumbling bits and pieces of his memories he wished to share with you. All his troubles, his worries, his insecurities, Master chose to confide in you than anyone else. The weakest comfort you could offer was a sad mewl of acknowledgement, nosing his cheek and licking his jaw— _Master, please, cheer up and be strong_ —and a smile would cross his lips—“Elizabeth 3rd, you always understand me,” he’d mutter, returning your affection with a brief kiss on your head. Because that was how it was. And there was no changing it.

Until now.

As Master continued petting your fur, you burrowed further into his lap and closed your eyes until he spoke up again.

“Elizabeth 3rd…” Master murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as though he was afraid of breaking the silence. “What happened during lunch today was something out of my hindsight.”

Lunch. Master’s relationship with his father was something akin to his pride, being able to hold a solid bond with someone he greatly respected. After returning from each meeting with his father, he’d hold a certain amount of contentment that only a familial relationship could fulfil. But today, Master seemed different. He turned in early for the night, tossing and turning on his bed until sleep finally consumed him wholly, and you sat on the sofa watching his fitful slumber.

Master seldom shared his thoughts with anyone else, careful to keep a lid on his emotions as the days turned to months, months turned to years, and years into decades. To hear this raw edge in Master’s voice unsettled your nerves.

_Master?_ You warily raised your head, mewling low. Pressing a paw against his torso, you looked upwards, taking in his sharp jawline illuminated by the dim aquarium glow, tracing the sorrow reflected in his eyes. _Master?_ You mewled again, pawing him gently this time, hoping to find a response. _Is something wrong?_

“Glam Choi’s influence over my father is strong… something I shouldn’t underestimate,” Master mused, absentmindedly running his finger from your ear over the bridge of your nose. All the while, the stagnant silence permeated in the penthouse as the observing stranger made no further moves, seemingly waiting for Master to finish his words. “As usual, my father has been blinded by her incessant flattery. It’s the same cycle over and over again, Elizabeth 3rd. This same vicious cycle of money-hungry women finding my father and wooing him over with their sweet words… it’ll never end unless my father takes the first step.”

Hushed silence fell.

Master absently continued stroking your fur.

Only the stranger seemed to find sick pleasure in this situation, reminding you of what could be yours.

“I know what you want, little one… you wish to be of some help to your beloved Master, am I right?”

_No…_ you mewl this time, but the denial was but a fragile sound of a lie.

And the man saw through it, clear as glass. “ _‘Oh, if only I were a human, I’d be able to do so much more for Master,’_ am I _right_?”

Master’s fingers weighed heavily over your head, your ears, your nose, a reminder of how hefty were the burdens he shouldered each day. A burden too heavy, he could share with no one other than you. You were his diary, his secret keeper, his beloved. His beloved Elizabeth 3rd.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Elizabeth.” The man shook his head, blue bangs partially masking the demented glint in his eyes. “I’ve made many miracles happen before… from cats to rabbits to dolls, everything on Earth has a wish only I can listen to. And once your wish is granted, you’ll realise how much you can do for him with your own two hands.”

Hands. Not paws.

Doing something for Master was a dream that would never come true. You were a cat and he was a human. Doing something for him with your tiny paws and unintelligible meows wouldn’t amount to anything solid enough for Master’s sake. Somehow… a reasonable part of yourself knew the stranger was right. He’d been right all along. Gradually, your eyes slipped close, almost as though you were accepting the inevitable defeat coming for you.

It didn’t surprise Master at all. “Getting sleepy, Elizabeth 3rd? Then maybe we should both continue resting. It won’t be good for you to get insufficient sleep.”

Ah, this was the part you loved the most. Master’s **firm** grasp habitually manoeuvred him into a resting position on the bed once more, lying on his back. And with a gentleness that he only reserved for you, because you were his and only his, because you were his prized possession, because you were his treasured pet, he carefully lowers you on his chest, letting you rest there for the night. It wasn’t uncomfortable at all. It just felt… _right_. Just lying curled up on Master’s chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing lull you to sleep, soaking in his comforting warmth.

And just _feeling_ him.

“Sleep well, princess,” said Master, his voice thickly swathed with drowsiness. “Good night, may you rest well…”

The lasts of your thoughts were a hazy jumble of wishes, buried wishes finally being unearthed for the first time.

* * *

When he was a child, his mother would press him into her side, cradling him close. “Jumin,” she said, “be careful not to get a cold.” He remembered the way she’d tuck his chin right in the crook of her arm, gently holding him as the clock ticks away seconds, minutes, and eventually hours into the night. He couldn’t recall when he fell asleep because the morning after was always the same; a cold bed, devoid of any human warmth from the night before, and a maid knocking persistently on the door, asking him to wake up.

It’d been many years since he woke up warm all over with a weight on his chest and a hand coiled around his.

Sunlight sliced through the Seoul skyscrapers and fell in fragments over his face. There was still biting coldness over his feet thanks to the centralized AC in his penthouse, but a spot of concentrated warmth over his torso made him incredibly forgiving towards the discomfort he suffered. Heavy, yes, a little hard for him to breathe, yes again, but it had been so long since he was this… content with waking up at ungodly hours in the morning.

It must’ve been Elizabeth 3rd, he surmised, vaguely recalling how he placed her on his chest last night as the sandman lulled them to sleep.

His hand automatically shot out to give her a morning petting, yet, instead of meeting sun-warmed fur and a wet nose, he found himself running his fingers through silken straight hair belonging on a very hard, _very_ human skull.

Cracking an eye open, Jumin stared at a spot of whiteness obscuring his vision. Hair. Hair. And _lots_ of hair, trailing over his chest, his arm, tousled all over his sheets. Unless he was dreaming, he was rather certain it was Elizabeth he placed on the exact same spot and certainly not a nightmare manifesting in the shape of Zen. Jumin stared at the head for a few seconds, calculating the possibility of his eyes playing tricks on him. Which, after a few more seconds of contemplation, he found utterly impossible and downright ridiculous.

Affixed to a spot and unable to move, he gazed at the visible features of the strange person lying on top of him. Aside from fine white hair draping over him like a blanket, he caught a hint of bare shoulder exposed for him to stare. Decidedly curious, his dark eyes followed the trail of white hair and bare shoulder… only to find them attached to a curved spine, bare back, and a hardly clothed bottom, whose pale skin and supple rosiness betrayed the gender. A woman’s. And definitely not a nightmarish Zen.

Was this a wet dream?

No, that can’t be it.

It had been too long since he last experienced something as juvenile as that, not to mention how realistic this turned out to be. Her fingers were tangled in his over the bed, soft and sticky after being pressed together for so long, and when he gave an experimental twitch to his fingers, she responded with a curl of her own. How… odd. How… _familiar._

Jumin supposed he spent too long looking for answers when there was none to be found if he stayed silent like this. With his free hand, he gave her an experimental shake on the shoulder.

“Wake up.”

No response. Only a sleepy mumble and a deeper burrowing of her head on his chest.

Furrowing his brows, Jumin tried again. “Wake up.”

This time, he succeeded in provoking a response, albeit it comes with another sleepy mumble and a soft shake of her head. Still, she stirred from her slumber and that was all he needs to know that this wasn’t a dream. It was anything but a dream when she gave a light stretch, throatily moaning her contentment, before tossing around blearily to meet his gaze. One part of Jumin’s mind was ready to chew her out for breaking into his penthouse and having the audacity to even share the same bed with him like some harlot from the streets. But the moment she fluttered her white lashes, a stray tongue wetting her lips, the questions in Jumin’s mouth died in his throat.

Blue eyes.

Eyes so blue, so familiar, as though he spent an eternity gazing into those glassy orbs and watching them open and close, open and close, open and close each day. The sunlight mirrored in her eyes glistened clear, reflecting the morning skies dotted with clusters of clouds. He had seen them before.

Those very blue eyes belonged to his cat, and certainly not on this woman. Yet his denials couldn’t come fast enough to counter the words she utter.

“Good morning, Master…”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next time on His Paper Garden of Madness:**   
>  _He paused. Abruptly, the hand caressing behind your ear disappeared, only to reappear around your throat. His fingers fluttered up the column of your neck, tracing a delicate trail past your bobbing throat, stopping under your chin. Master’s expert touch invited yet another breathy sound past your lips, something that made him pause for a fraction of second, before he began running his fingers under your chin, resting his thumb on your bottom lip._
> 
> **Notes:**  
>  For those of you who’ve played Dandelion and Nameless, you should vaguely know who the stranger is. :) There’s no telling what he’s up to this time, because he’ll definitely make a comeback. And despite the reader being ‘Elizabeth’, it isn’t quite Elizabeth… (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ But it’s still too early for spoilers~  
> This is an experimental fic taking place in Jumin’s story from day 3 onwards, delving into Jumin’s psyche and how he shares a bond with Elizabeth. Somehow to me, Elizabeth seemed like a really intelligent cat despite being mischievous (like all cats are). So this piece of fanfiction is probably going to be deep, dealing with Jumin’s problems… (but hey, there’ll be smut too lol who can say no to smut).   
> Thanks for reading and if you like how it went, feel free to drop me a message!


	2. Lovesickness

All living beings crave love. The need to love and to be loved, to want and to be wanted. Master had never been a man of restraint when it comes to showing how much he loved you, finding fastening glistening stones around your throat as a brand of his love. The lines between a human and a cat were blurred beyond belief, putting your four-legged majesty on a pedestal above the rest in Master’s eyes. To him, you were a woman finer than any female out there, a woman who understood and accepted his faults with arms wide open, always listening to his problems, always with a word of love or two on your lips.

You were Elizabeth 3rd, his treasure.

You loved him.

But now, you weren’t so sure if he loved you too.

From all the years you spent with Master, a fluff of whiteness trotting on teeny paws and holding your tail straight, you’d never witnessed a quiet fury unfurling in his eyes. Stormy grey orbs darkened to a fault where you thought it might crack and shatter into pieces if he laid his eyes on you any longer.

For the first time ever, you couldn’t understand him.

“Who are you?” he hissed, a venomous threat implicit in his words. Master had never spoken to you in such a tone before, as it was a tone he reserved only for those deserving his wrath. To hear him address you as though you were lower than him sent little trembles up your back. Dissatisfied with your lack of verbal answer, Master narrowed his eyes. “You’ll either tell me who you are, or I’ll be calling in my security. Now, who are _you?_ ”

A squeak bubbled through your panic. “I—“

—wait, how did you say that…?

You were positive you heard something. It was a word. An intelligible word. Coming out from your mouth. Apparently, Master heard it too, loud and clear.  But how? Wasn’t he supposed to look at you with those eyes of his, a laugh or a smile on his lips at your little meaningless comfort before moving on? How could this be?

Tearing your eyes away from him, you scanned the entirety of Master’s penthouse, trying to find something, _anything_ that would help you. There was Master’s sofa, a place you loved to curl up on as the clock marched on, waiting for Master’s return. There was a carpet with traces of your white hair on it, something you loved to lie on as you rubbed your back all over it. There was a tubular aquarium with various wriggly-tailed fishes darting between straggly corals.

And then there was a reflection on it, a foggy outline of a woman sitting on Master’s bed with her legs splayed on each side. A woman of pale limbs and hair, hair, just long white hair spread all over Master’s hands and thighs. Her eyes were the colour of a midday sky that burned the brightest, a clear and translucent light giving life to the ashen whiteness of her overall pallor.

Those eyes looked at you.

 _She_ looked at you.

And you looked at her, stricken.

Your fingers twitched. Hers did too. You were sure your lips parted in disbelief, a hearty exhale. Hers did too. Your hand trembled when you reached out towards the woman; she, too, reached out for you, her eyebrows knitted in anguish and her lips parting open and the distress in her eyes—

A hand grabbed your wrist before your fingers brushed against the cool glass, encasing you tight. It was a grab meant to restraint, unlike Master’s previous touches. Turning away from the murky reflection on the tank, you caught Master’s dangerously darkened eyes and shook your head.

“Master, p-please,” you pleaded, a crack in your voice that betrayed the hint of fear within you, “listen to me, M-Master… I—I’m Elizabeth 3rd.”

It was a hearty confession meant to set you free from worries, so that Master would cradle you within his embrace once more, petting your head and nuzzling your cheek. But the incredulity was still there on Master’s face, firmly set in stone. Master was a man who made rational decisions within a flash, whether it was for his own sake or for his company’s wellbeing. This decision, too, was formed out of rationality, a realistic choice for his safety. You couldn’t blame him for the distrust thickening between you two—it didn’t make any sense and nothing felt real except for Master’s warmth emanating from his skin on yours, but you desperately _yearned_ for his trust.

It didn’t feel so nice being placed at the short end of the stick when you were always his beloved, always his trusted Elizabeth 3rd.

In a glance, Master took in your appearance from head to toe. A brief, calculating look, as it was something you’d seen many times before. He was making his next decision now, whether he’d throw you out or hear you out. Everything depended on this.

 _Elizabeth 3_ _rd_ _… you’re always so intelligent, so beautiful,_ he used to say.

Always intelligent. Always beautiful.

Always his Elizabeth 3rd.

Always _his_.

“Master, please believe me,” you tried again, despite the trembles threatening to waver your voice into nothingness. “I’m Elizabeth 3rd… I’m _your_ Elizabeth 3 rd. I—“

“And you expect me to believe that a cat can suddenly morph into a human?” he retorted with an arrogant quirk of his brow. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t believe in any unscientific discovery, unless you can provide any proof.” Master lowered his hand, yet he hadn’t released his firm grip around your wrist. He still didn’t believe you. “Now, if you’re done spewing nonsense, I’d like to call in the security to have you arrested on trespassing. I’m sure you’ll enjoy your time in jail.”

Jail? Your brows furrowed. What was a jail? The unfamiliar term Master coined in a warning tone only brought in images of hostility, a place just as cold and unwelcoming and unfamiliar, a lonely place without Master. Whatever a jail was, it wasn’t home. A place was never a home without Master.

Master’s hand was already reaching for his phone on the bedside, but you swiftly obstructed his path by pressing down on his wrist as he did with yours.

“Please—“ you whispered, wrenching your eyes shut as an unfamiliar warmth threatened to fall over your cheeks. Pain, sorrow, anguish, devastation, despair, hopelessness—everything bubbled within you—within this frantically beating _thing_ inside you, threatening to boil over at the thought of Master just _abandoning_ you even though he loved yo— “Please, Master, I’m begging you, please, believe in me—I’m Elizabeth 3 rd, I don’t know what happened but please listen—“

Oh. Oh _no._ Something warm and wet cascaded down your cheeks, dripping off your chin and falling in rivulets over your quivering thighs. This suffocating sensation gripped your throat and choked your words into fits and sobs, rendering you wordless.

For a split second, Master’s unyielding grasp around your wrist loosened.

You braved yourself to open your eyes, to look at Master and hope he’ll believe in you, but it was getting harder and harder and _harder_ to see with your vision getting blurrier and more wet things were trickling down your cheeks and raining on your thighs, with your words coming out in garbled sobs and sniffles.

And Master… Master was just staring at you, his eyes cloudy, his face devoid of emotions. A blank slate. There was an unforgiving glint outlining the stern set of his lips, his jaw clenched tight. He probably thought you were trying to deceive him by using someone he treasured against himself, but there were also vague beginnings of something coming together in his eyes. An unnamed emotion you couldn’t put your paw on it.

Because you had never seen it before on Master.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, you evened out the lasts of your trembles. “I—My name is Elizabeth 3rd,” you introduced yourself shakily for the umpteenth time, stifling another sob. “I… I am yours, Master. I’ve been yours ever since Rika gave me to you. Sometimes when you don’t come home, Master, I get unbearably sad… but I’ll wait for you on the sofa right there until you return.”

Your eyes lingered on the smooth leather of the sofa you loved, gazing at the exact same spot you rolled around as you counted each _tick_ and _tock_ until Master pulled you into his embrace again.

Something in Master’s eyes flickered.

And his grip around your wrist tightened by just a little bit.

Just a little.

That was all the encouragement you needed to push on. “Yesterday, you had lunch with your father… and you were so tired, but you told me about your father and how someone was in… in—infulencing him—“

“Influencing him,” Master rectified with a curt nod, wary eyes watching your every move.

“—influencing him,” you repeated after him, carefully treading on those difficult words that Master recited the night before. “And you said something about a vicious cycle of money-hungry women. But… but you said these things won’t end if Master’s father doesn’t take the first step. And if he doesn’t take the first step, then—“

Master closed his eyes. “Stop.”

And you did. Words seized in your throat, almost tumbling over your lips, yet you held on to them because Master said stop and you were his _and_ if he wanted you to stop, then you would. Because you were his.

The moment he opened his eyes again, lengthy lashes lifting to reveal those grey eyes you adored, something _changed._ The tension in the air dissipated into nothingness. The harsh lines on his face mellowed out into an expression you could finally identify as relief. It was as though rain finally fell on a desert, giving life to those who yearned for salvation once more. And for you, it was more than enough when Master released his hold on your wrist and chose to cradle your cheek.

Warm.

It was so warm.

And it felt like home.

Master loved to cradle your head, running his thumb over the bridge of your nose to make you purr in delight. But this time, things were different. His thumb wiped away the strangely wet things falling from your eyes, a gesture that was a stark change from how things were before. It was probably because you were no longer a cat. You now possessed limbs that were similar to Master’s. Hands. Feet. Legs. Fingers.

Lips.

Lips that Master was tracing with his thumb, wetting them with the mark of your sorrow. It tasted strange… almost salty as your tongue darted out to follow his path. Yet, Master never uttered a word other than evaluating your response with his eyes, mapping how your head nuzzled into his broad palm, rubbing fondly against it. It felt good to be touched again, _feeling_ him. You wanted to purr in delight when his fingers sought the place behind your ear, gingerly brushing against them, but you couldn’t.

All you managed were breathy sounds from your throat, a sound that elicited a strange look from Master.

But he didn’t say a word about it.

Instead, he brushed aside your long hair to expose your ear and repeated the action, drawing forth more and more sounds. Too lost in the familiar comfort he gave you, your eyes fell shut as you enjoyed his ministrations, basking in his attention, his love. His everything.

“It’s strange…” you heard Master murmur, just a touch above a whisper, “I… can’t quite believe this is happening. A logical side of my brain denies this simply because there’re no logical explanations to support this phenomenon. Yet a rational side of my brain says that it’s you… your white hair, your blue eyes, your words, and your reaction when I touch you—everything about you is Elizabeth 3rd.”

A stretch of silence fell between his sentences, not that you noticed how awkward it was when Master kept stroking your ear and you kept nuzzling into his palm, seeking more and more of his touches.

After a moment’s contemplation, he began again, a little louder this time. “But now, I can confidently say that you are indeed my Elizabeth 3rd. You know too much about me, about the things that I never told anyone. Even if you were an intruder who studied every detail of my life down to a scratch, they’d never be able to replicate how much you love being touched here…”

He paused. Abruptly, the hand caressing behind your ear disappeared, only to reappear around your throat. His fingers fluttered up the column of your neck, tracing a delicate trail past your bobbing throat, stopping under your chin. Master’s expert touch invited yet another breathy sound past your lips, something that made him pause for a fraction of second, before he began running his fingers under your chin, resting his thumb on your bottom lip.

“And here as well…” he murmured, quiet. “Your reactions are purely Elizabeth 3rdif she were a human…”

If you were a human.

In which you were now.

The stranger from yesterday, whose electric pink eyes and pale blue hair remained in your memory, made all of this possible. For you to touch, to kiss, and to love Master. To help him. To be there for him.  

And now, you rebirthed anew.

* * *

Perhaps it was a moment of weakness that drove Jumin to commit his first mistake, which could be his last. How easily he believed your words and your actions, even though they might be scripted for his downfall. But his logical faculties were faulty from a start; anything and everything for his Elizabeth 3rd, no matter how silly it seemed to others. From diamond-encrusted collars to mulberry silk beddings just for you to lay on, to the finest gourmet chef designing a well-balanced diet for your consumption, a rigid schedule detailing what and when you should be fed, everything he did was for your sake.

And oh, the results spoke for themselves, how it showed on the radiant glow of your skin as the sunlight fell in streaks over your splayed limbs.

Everything about his Elizabeth—about you—everything was aesthetically pleasing to his eyes. The smooth sheen of your frigid white hair cascading over your shoulders, lean arms, and fleshy thighs lent an unearthly purity to your image. Something so pure, untouched, like an unblemished porcelain. The sapphires of your irises were an untainted blue, blue of the seas and the skies, like tumbling through the clouds into an endless fall, shadowed by thick white lashes that obscured your delicate gaze every now and then.

Every once in a while, Jumin caught himself observing how your lips would part to release a satisfied moan when he repeated his motions just the right way you loved. An unintentional sound, maybe akin to a purr that you couldn’t emulate now that you were a human. But everything else about you was faultless, every action a habitual movement that even the best actress couldn’t mimic.

Not that he could see why anyone would send a human over to impersonate a cat, Jumin noted, because the notion was implausible from the start. Nobody could get past the throngs of bodyguard stationed outside his penthouse, securing the perimeters just for his safety. And certainly nobody could break through the windows unless they possessed superhuman powers.

The possibilities were endless, but the answer was clear. You were Elizabeth 3rd, and there was no denying your nature of a cat. Especially when he took into consideration how unashamed you were of your nudity, as though you weren’t aware of the ravishing image you presented to any man.

From the moment you woke up, you made no gesture to cover yourself up. A cat’s outfit was only its fur, so it made sense why you found no desire to pull his blankets up your chest to cover your bared breasts. As much as Jumin diverted his gaze to somewhere decent, he’s seen the dusky pinks of your nipples whenever your hair failed to provide the sufficient cover. With how your thighs were parted, legs splayed on each side of your body, Jumin felt as though he didn’t need to look lower to confirm his suspicion.

Having a naked cat-woman on his bed was the least of his problems, he supposed. For starters, it was still morning and he needed to go to work… but his hands immediately found themselves reaching out for his phone, keying in the speed dial for his assistant, and waiting for her to answer the call.

Within two rings, Assistant Kang’s voice came through. _“Good morning, Mr. Han.”_

It was curt. It required no further explanation. And he knew he wanted this. “Cancel all of my plans for today. Something urgent came up.”

 _“Something urgent?”_ she echoed, a notch of concern evident in her voice as he picked up sounds of her paperwork getting thrown off to the side. _“Are you all right, Mr. Han?”_

“I’m fine.” He cleared his throat, his gaze darting over to catch your eyes. There was a quizzical quality with how you observed him, eyes wide, lips parted in curiosity, and he immediately wondered if you knew what he was doing. “Just cancel all meetings today. That’s all.”

Without hearing her chastising reply, Jumin pressed the red button on his phone and watched in satisfaction as the screen darkened, effectively putting a stop to her reproaches. Assistant Kang would know about this sooner or later when the time was right, and even if she didn’t know of your existence as a human forevermore, he doubted it would be much of a change.

The only thing that should matter to you was him, and that’s _that_. You didn’t need to know anyone else. Not as a human.

Dropping his phone on the mattress, Jumin turned towards you once more, taking in how patiently you were waiting for him. It was… _strange_ how familiar this seemed, yet entirely uncanny in its truth. A cat metamorphosing into a human, blue eyes staring into his grey ones, hands and certainly not paws just scrabbling for his once again, fingers tangling together on the sheets. Everything was similar in this dissimilar situation.

“First things first, we need to eat breakfast,” he said after gathering his thoughts, languidly brushing his thumb over the smooth skin of your hand. “And afterwards, I’d like to find something for you to wear. You need to have clothes fit for a princess. After that, I’ll call in some men to refurbish that room over there to be yours, if you’d like. You need to have a space you can call your own, after all.”

Somehow, your hands over his tightened after hearing that.

“A space of my own?” you echoed.

 _Ah,_ no matter how many times he heard your voice, it still sounded like a dream. A soft, whisper-like sound, light and clear. Just like how you used to mewl at his every response, now, you spoke words to him. Intelligible words that he actually understood as a human being, and no longer a vacant stare with a desolate meow. Now he couldn’t get enough of the _pretty_ sounds falling from your _pretty_ lips.

“Yes, your very own room.” Jumin nodded. “Of course, it’ll be filled with everything that you love. You know the chief of security, right? If you need anything, request it from him, be it clothes, shoes, or anything else you desire. You’ll have a closet of your own, a comfortable bed, and you can sleep in there all you want.”

The luxuries he offered would’ve blinded any other woman with happiness, unspoken promises of wealth and unlimited expenses all shouldered under his name. Yet, strangely, he caught a fleeting sadness crossing your eyes. Something must’ve gone wrong somewhere with what he said. He rewound the words in his head, mulling over each alphabet and its context, until a light brush of your fingers brought him back to reality.

Jumin watched as your eyes turned away from him, gazing fondly at the sofa close to his bed.

“Master…” you said, lowering your head. “Do you see that sofa over there? I like that sofa. It’s where I see you when you leave for work, and it’s also where I greet you when you come back home. And…” you trailed off, looking at him once more, “… it’s where I sleep at night because I can see you from here.”

The beginnings of something bloomed somewhere deep inside him. Maybe it was his lungs. How he breathed in shallowly upon hearing your words. Or maybe it was his mind. How it ran rampant as it dug its way through his thoughts and took root. Or maybe it was his heart. Just beating a little louder than before.

“So please, Master, let me stay close to you. I don’t need my own bed.” You shook your head, sending stray locks of hair over your ears and brushing against your cheek. “I can continue sleeping on the sofa just fine if it meant I can stay here together with you.”

“But you’re no longer a cat,” Jumin reminded you with a firm look, carefully seeking answers from your glassy blue eyes. “Sleeping on the sofa won’t be as comfortable as before. If it makes you happy, then you can have my bed. You may sleep here every night, Elizabeth 3rd.”

He never knew you were capable of frowning. And he hated that wretched expression on your face, as though his words caused you more grief than happiness.

“But Master, if I sleep here, then where will you sleep?”

A fine question indeed. Elizabeth 3rd was always an intelligent and beautiful cat. And now, Elizabeth 3rd was an intelligent and beautiful woman.

“I doubt I can get much sleep,” he admitted with a wry smile. Reaching out, his fingers wound through your tresses and tucked them right behind your ear, giving you a little scratch while he was at it. Just almost instinctively, your eyes fell close as you leant into his touch with an airy sigh. “So you can rest here while I watch over you. It’ll be fine.”

Even with your eyes shut, lost in the delights only a cat could understand, your decision didn’t waver. “But Master,” you murmured breathily, nuzzling into his palm, “can’t you… can’t you sleep with me?”

He almost stopped his ministrations at your suggestion. _Almost._ But you were a cat before, oblivious to the innuendoes humans coined out of the term. Your innocence couldn’t be faulted. Someone so pure and so innocent should be kept away from the taints of the world. Away where nobody else could lay their stained hands on you.

And the safest place for you was here, right by his side.

“If that is what you desire, then I won’t deny your wish,” Jumin whispered, his eyes half-lidded as he gazed at your expression. “We’ll spend our nights right here, together.”

 _Together_ was never in his dictionary before. _Together_ meant doing an activity with someone else. It was always him and him alone, and the prospect of performing an activity with another person never caught his interest. But _together_ with you was something else, even if it was just sleeping. Being together with you meant that he never wanted to be apart again.

You were Elizabeth 3rd.

Not just a pretty cat with a delightful meow.

You were a woman.

His woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next time on His Paper Garden of Madness:**
> 
>  
> 
> _Striding over in three quick successions, Jumin placed himself between your legs and wrapped his hands on each side of your body. Your girlish ribcage under his fingertips felt particularly small, the ridges of human bones pressing against him. If he pressed hard enough, he could count each bone and the gaps in the between, memorising the way your breath hitched and how your knees dug into his sides, fleshy thighs obscured by his shirt… ah, if he thought about this any longer, strange thoughts would consume his conscience._
> 
>  
> 
>  **Notes:**  
>  *squints at the jumin hell*
> 
> … too late.
> 
> The overwhelming amount of kudos shocked me ((((；゜Д゜))) but at the same time it made me so ~~freaking~~ happy that it got a positive response ~~can i cry somewhere pls ty~~ (⌒▽⌒)☆ Thank you thank you thank youuuuuu! Thanks for the comments too, they were indeed lovely and made my day~ °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖° until next time!


	3. Paradise

“Will this be all right with you, Elizabeth 3rd?”

Master held up a shirt, pinstriped, perfectly starched with its creases ironed out. Somehow, you couldn’t deny him when he made that face, a face full of curiosity, just waiting to see whether you liked it or not. Who were you to say no to him?

With a grateful smile, you nodded. “Yes Master, if that’s good for me then I’ll accept it.”

You’d vaguely expected Master to be pleased with your answer, just accepting what he offered and never to deny him. But Master’s brows met together in faint displeasure, making your stomach lurch uncomfortably. What was it that made him unhappy? Was it how you spoke to him too casually? Or was it otherwise? If that was the case, then things were certainly much simpler when you were just a mewling, licking Elizabeth 3rd, being able to please Master with your purrs and parades alone.

Being a human was _hard_. And to think this was just communicating… you couldn’t imagine having to shoulder many human tasks like Master did.

“If there’s something else you’d like to wear, don’t hesitate to let me know,” Master said, carefully laying out his shirt on the bed as he took a seat beside you. The concern in his eyes were genuine as he regarded you, long and hard, appraising every shift of your facial expression. “Unfortunately, you’ll have to wear this for a while, at least until we’re done with breakfast. I can’t have you catching a cold since you’re still adjusting to your human body.”

You couldn’t help but to stare at Master. How’d he notice you were feeling slightly cold all over?

As though you had verbalised your monologue, Master gave a short laugh and reached out, running his hand over your bare shoulder and down your arm, where he caught your fingers, lacing them together with his. “Humans would usually feel cold without wearing anything, after all. I can feel it.” He glanced at your fingers tangled with his, giving them a light squeeze. “Right here.”

His answer prickled your cheeks with something warm. Cats never had this problem before. Something within you thudded along, the loud lurch of _thump thump thump thump_ making you wonder if Master could hear it too.

But thankfully, Master didn’t seem to notice anything strange as he went on talking with a small smile on his lips. “This breakfast will be your first meal as a human, am I right?” He caught your eyes and returned it with a satisfied nod. “Then I simply must make the best pancakes for you. My cooking will be the first thing that will pass through these lips of yours. Just sit right here and I’ll bring it over to you.”

You’ve never had any of these _‘pancakes’_ in your whole life, though you were lucky having to witness Master’s handiwork in the kitchen before. Sometimes his culinary pursuits placed his tastes on a palate well above others, only satisfied by the many award-winning chefs he summoned to his penthouse. Other times, just a simple meal prepared by his own two hands provided him the best comfort whenever further human interactions weren’t needed. There were days he wanted nobody else other than your company. Maybe today was one of it.

Before you knew it, your head tilted to the side quizzically. “Can I come and watch you, Master?”

Master raised his eyebrows at your request, pursing his lips thoughtfully. There was an answer already forming on the tip of his tongue, but he verbalised none of it and chose to mull over the options for a fraction of second longer. You watched him with building anticipation, wondering why it was taking him so long just to agree bringing you into the kitchen when you’ve been there before. Was it because you’d get in his way since you’re much larger in size now?

“The kitchen is a dangerous place,” Master finally breathed out his verdict. “But I’ll keep watch over you so that you won’t hurt yourself in there with me. Of course, you must never get close to the fire. I wouldn’t want you to burn yourself…”

_Oh._ On reflex, somehow you couldn’t suppress the smile creeping onto your lips at his answer. So it was just because of that? “Don’t worry about me, Master,” you said, “I promise not to get in your way.”

As much as Master’s expression showed how reluctant he was to bring you into the kitchen, he, too, gave a helpless smile at your answer. “Then we both have an agreement. Let’s get you dressed before I start cooking, all right?”

You’d always seen how Master got ready every morning. After drenching himself with something wet and cold, emerging from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, he’d walk into a conjoined room. You used to follow him in there, watching his deliberation over what suit to wear and which necktie to match, but today was different. Today, Master wasn’t going to dress himself—he was going to dress you in one of his own outfits. It somehow felt as though he was marking you as one of his own in this little rite, putting you as part of his life.

And you couldn’t stop the little smile on your lips from growing wider.

Master, unmindful of your silence, grabbed his shirt and began working meticulously through it. His long, elegant fingers worked its way through the many buttons littered on the front, flicking each of it open with a practiced motion, making it look effortless. As expected, Master was a human on a completely different scale from others. Everything he did resembled something out of a graceful performance, just like the musical ensemble he periodically rang up every now and then.

Entranced by his workmanship, you studied how he expertly smoothed out the creases after holding it up, lifting the striped shirt over your shoulders. You blinked, letting the cool material graze over your bare skin. While it certainly felt… _odd_ , you couldn’t say no when Master’s good intentions could go to waste. So you patiently allowed him to sweep aside your hair, letting them cascade over your back as he went about trying to put the shirt together.

“Elizabeth 3rd,” he finally spoke up, with his head lowered and intently gazing somewhere below your neck, “I need you to lift up your arms. Can you do that for me?”

You nodded, albeit finding his request a tad bit strange. “Yes, Master.”

As much as you were used to observing how Master clothed himself, trying to perform it on your own was a vastly different experience. Master made it look effortless. Meanwhile, you were hopeless. Your arm was bent at an awkward angle, your neck felt as though it could pop and drop any second, and just _everything_ about wearing a shirt felt too foreign.

But Master was always a patient, loving man, always ready to forgive your mistakes… though it didn’t stop him from having an amused smirk on his face. One by one, his hands manoeuvred you through every motion just to become like him. Just _like_ him. One of his hands supported your forearm, while the other gently lifted your hand to guide it through a passageway of crisp cotton. Warm. It felt warm where Master touched you like a brand. Just oh so _warm_ when he executed the same actions again for your other arm, letting you explore what it felt like to wear a shirt, to learn from this experience, to become a human.

Just _like_ him.

Once he was done, Master pulled the front of the shirt together, eyes trained below your neckline. You weren’t sure why, at select intervals, those grey orbs of his would dart to the side to look elsewhere even as his hands automatically continued the work of buttoning you up. But your chance to question him disappeared just as soon as it appeared when Master finished up the last button, carefully brushing down the front of your body to smoothen the material out. Something about his warm touch over your skin, coupled with the fine graze of cotton, made your back arch a little, made you sat up straighter, made you bite down a noise that almost came out.

Master quite obviously heard it, no matter how hard you tried.

The quirk of his eyebrow told you much about it.

Being regarded under those murky grey eyes suddenly made your throat dry, and you found yourself licking your lips as you tried to find an answer for the strange sound you made. But no excuse came to justify yourself. All that was left for you to do was just to look elsewhere, hoping he’d catch the hint.

And Master, being the patient, loving man he was, always ready to forgive your every mistake, knew what you wanted. With a touch so gentle as though you were a jadeite vase, his fingers snaked around your wrist and cradled it.

“Well then, let’s go to the kitchen, my lady.”

* * *

 As a cat, it was hard for him to curb your lifelong habit of climbing onto the kitchen counter, sidestepping the spice racks with the elegance only a four-legged feline could muster. No matter how many times he picked you off the counter and placed you on the floor again, chastising your dangerous routine, you’d regard him with bright blue eyes, an innocent mewl, and a twitch of your ears. The moment he turned his back, your mischievous tail would swish from side to side as you propelled yourself up the island counter again.

Today wasn’t any different.

Jumin had his hand around your wrist, yes, but his mistake was to hold you too loosely. The moment he brought you to the kitchen, his reflex wasn’t fast enough to react against your feline ones. With a flutter of white hair, your nimble feet carried you off towards the island counter and he could only watch in muted horror when your arms easily lifted you onto the marble surface. There was no stopping you as you sat on the exact same spot your feline counterpart would’ve done, legs dangling off like an innocuous child enjoying herself on a swing.

His mouth automatically opened for a reproach, but he couldn’t muster a single word against your excitement.

Of course, of course, _of course_ being a human for the first time would excite you, but he only wished you wouldn’t do things that might potentially place you in harm’s way. For starters, he’d like to rattle off that your back nearly toppled the spice rack over, but yet again, words failed him. Your eagerness was infectious, making him consider things he normally wouldn’t have. Just leaving you right there, letting you watch him whip up a batch of pancakes, smiling and laughing away, with a shirt too loose until the neckline draped past your shoulder… it was everything he never imagined before.

Perhaps… _perhaps_ it wouldn’t be selfish of him to play an ignorant fool just for a day.

Perhaps.

But still, he couldn’t ignore the potential hazard you posed even as you sat on the kitchen counter. It was wholly unbecoming for a lady.

Striding over in three quick successions, Jumin placed himself between your legs and wrapped his hands on each side of your body. Your girlish ribcage under his fingertips felt particularly small, the ridges of human bones pressing against him. If he pressed hard enough, he could count each bone and the gaps in the between, memorising the way your breath hitched and how your knees dug into his sides, fleshy thighs obscured by his shirt… _ah_ , if he thought about this any longer, strange thoughts would consume his conscience.

“It wouldn’t do for you to sit here, Elizabeth 3rd,” he offered an answer to your unspoken question, flexing his fingers against your sides experimentally. “When you were much smaller as a cat, it was doable, but now that you’re a human… it’s a little dangerous. I’ll place you somewhere else much safer if you wish to observe.”

This was what he used to do when you were a cat.

Thumbs pressing into your little ribcage, the tremors of your beating heart right in his palms, Jumin easily pulled you into his embrace as he whisked you to safety. However, repeating the innocent action on a human simply lost… all sense of innocence. It felt deeper. Stronger. Stranger. How he hoisted you into the air, tangles of your hair falling over his arms and shoulders and chest, your clear blue eyes gazing down at him—everything was not how it was before. The balmy heat of your skin against the shirt instead of a cat’s thick mane, the perfume of perfectly laundered shirt instead of the scent of a cat, the started gasp of a woman instead of a cat’s low purr.

Yet, only one thing remained the same.

How you perfectly fit in his hands.

That, had never changed right from the start.

_No._ If he continued contemplating over this matter, it would only trouble him more. Jumin stowed these memories away in the nooks and crannies of his mind, promising to revisit them once night emerges as his companion once more. Now was simply not the time and place for it.

Keeping that in check, he carried you from the island counter to a little corner table by the kitchen, where its empty surface promised you no harm. Granted, it was somewhat far from the stove and its necessary appliances, but it was in your best interest.

What he didn’t expect—or rather, what he forgot was your tenacity.

With just a little wriggle, you managed to slip out of his hold, dropping to your feet. It wasn’t that far of a drop, but the elegance in how you landed on your feet was that of a cat, a grace only evident with how cats always manage to land upright on their paws no matter how hard they fell. The mischief in your eyes sparkled in the sunlight, highlighting the shards of aquamarine in those sapphire irises of yours, a look he’s seen time and time again. That look never promised anything good.

Without as much as a word, you scampered off towards the island counter and heaved yourself on its marble surface again, barely missing the spice rack by mere inches.

There simply was no stopping you.

“Come on, Master, hurry up,” you cajoled him, legs swaying eagerly in the air. “Let’s make some pancakes?”

What would he give to protect that innocence of yours?

“If you promise to stay put, then we can come to an agreement,” Jumin agreed, despite the offer coming out more half-hearted than he thought. Retracing his steps towards the little space between your legs, he caught your eyes and couldn’t miss the light within them. “Now be a good princess and stay here, Elizabeth 3rd.”

Deep down, he knew the answer.

_Everything._

He’d give everything in this world to protect you.

* * *

 Pancakes were made, tea was brewed, and everything was served on a silver platter. Master had always been particularly _particular_ with how certain things needed to be done. Everything, according to him, needed to follow a certain order. He took excessive care in plating the pancakes, dashing the fluffy goodness with ribbons of cream and strawberries, and brewing a potful of fine tea from a golden tin. Just when you thought it was enough, Master withdrew polished silverware from the top drawer and laid them out on a folded napkin, careful enough not to let them clatter noisily as he brought the tray over to the dining table.

Laying out the fine china, Master gave you a brief smile. “Breakfast for a lady, served. As much as I’m eager to tell you to dig in, I’m sure you don’t know how to use these cutlery.”

Yet again, Master knew you inside out. They looked imposing enough, glinting sharp under the sunlight, which unnerved you slightly. If you truly weren’t careful like what Master had been chastising you about, you could hurt yourself. Sensing you’d need plenty of help to get past this obstacle, you looked up at him once more. “You’re right, Master. Can you teach me how to use them? I want to eat just like you too.”

“Of course, that’ll be my greatest pleasure,” said Master, pulling up his seat right next to you. “I could do this the easy way by just feeding you straight away, but you won’t learn anything from it if you needed to mimic my actions in the future. Practice makes perfect. I’ll slowly teach you these things but I can be a strict teacher at times.” He paused, letting the slightest of a self-depreciating smile tug at the corner of his lips. “So do prepare yourself.”

As much as you hadn’t intended to laugh, you did. “I’ll try my best!”  
  
Strangely, it didn’t offend Master, who regarded you with an appreciative look. His only reply was to select a few from the tray and placing them in your hands, letting you gauge the weight of each silver. With him, each lesson was a simplified form of art, supplied with certain historical facts that Master tacked on. Albeit the ‘fun facts’ made no sense to you, a human with no prior knowledge whatsoever, Master fascinated you with his depthless knowledge.

Teaching you the poise of a lady, he ran his hand over your back in an attempt to straighten your posture. Wherever he could correct, he’d do so without missing a beat, always ready to ensure your understanding in all of his lessons. The correct way to lift a teacup, the correct way to hold the silver utensils, the correct way to slice the pancakes, Master meticulously taught everything from the start to the end. It would’ve appeared as a tedious task to some, but to you, it was more than what you expected.

Being a human was tough.

But being with Master made everything easier.

After polishing off the lasts of the pancake, savouring the creamy goodness and sweet strawberry slices, Master carefully used the napkin to wipe off traces of food from your lips. It must’ve been an appalling sight. “You learnt well, but you still need more practice. Don’t worry, when lunch comes around, I’ll be sure to teach you how to eat other things.” Almost inquisitively, Master peered into your eyes. “By the way, how were the pancakes? Were they to your liking?”

“Yes, Master.” You nodded, almost a little too ecstatically as you licked your lips to taste the lasts of the whipped cream. “Your pancakes were really delicious. Is it okay if we have them again?”

“As much as I’m pleased to hear you like them, we’ve eaten more than enough pancakes for today.” Master shook his head, his hands already working on piling the dirtied plates right into the tray, stacking them high. Lifting them away from the table, Master circled the island counter until you couldn’t see what he was up to, only hearing his voice in return. “You’ll have to wait until tomorrow when it’s time for breakfast again. I’ll call in a chef to make something for lunch. That way, we get to spend more time together.”

Spending more time together with Master was a good thing, something you always looked forward to. Relishing in his affection and attention, curling up on his chest as he slept, receiving head scratches and ear rubs, Master always knew how to make you feel good. So when he finally returned from the kitchen, you barely hid the excitement in your voice.

“What’ll we do today, Master? Will you play with me?”

His somber answer, however, dashed all hopes of fun and games from your mind.

“No, Elizabeth 3rd. Today, we need to do something else entirely different from the usual.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next time on His Paper Garden of Madness:**
> 
> _It was better this way. Better when he couldn’t see the devastating beauty you’d become. If not, the desire to protectkeeptraplock ~~chain~~ would blind him. Even if he owned something, someone, it wouldn’t be ethical to rob them away of their freedom. You were once a cat. You were now a human. Whether or not the Universal Declaration of Human Rights applied to a unique case like you, he preferred not to delve into the semantics, but you were his. If you were his and if he were to stretch the boundaries to toe the fine line… perhaps you wouldn’t mind staying in here forever?_
> 
> **Notes:**
> 
> This chapter hasn’t been beta-read at all because I wanted to post this up instead of making everyone wait. I swear I wanted to update this earlier last week but somehow my assignments piled on and there’s an unfinished thesis giving me the judgmental eye even as I’m posting this up… *squints at the thesis*
> 
> Thank you very much for all the kind messages and support from everyone! Chapter 3 is already completed, just awaiting proofreading (by me when I have extra time ;-; ) and Chapter 4 is 75% done~ (Chapter 4 is where things start getting good 8D )


	4. Love Slave

There were many things about the human world you thought you understood as a cat. You saw how Master cleaned himself as a human; there were these pipes that rained wet things all over him, or sometimes he’d submerge himself in a tub whilst enjoying fine wine, also throwing in a random scratch or a rub on your head as you sat watching. So when Master began fiddling with his phone and rang up a few people to his penthouse, confusion wasn’t part of your emotions.

Whatever Master thought of, you accepted it. Perhaps his knowledge dictated it was for the best, considering how he preferred to lay out his decisions, rearranging the pawns on his chessboard just as he saw fit.

The head of a department store was the first to emerge from the doorway of bodyguards, her face flushed with fear as her kitten heels clopped on the polished marble floors. Minutes later, the throng of bodyguards parted to make way for a frail-looking hairdresser, who was accompanied by her team of female stylists and their necessary equipment. You could barely distinguish who was who, if not for the fact that you overhead his conversation earlier when he requested their presence.

“Mr. Han,” they answered almost in unison, already ducking their heads in lieu of a bow. “G-Good morning…”

He wasn’t one for small talk. There was usually no need for him to converse longer than necessary anyway. Gesturing towards the bed, where you sat patiently as you took in the sight of the strangers before your eyes, Master cleared his throat. “You will groom her befitting of a lady. Afterwards, I’ll need someone to design a whole wardrobe by picking out the best outfits for her, including sleepwear. Don’t forget to include various basic necessities that she might require in the future. Bring it to me for approval before you put it into the room across the hallway. Now get to work.”

Nobody dared to object to his demands, no matter how ridiculous it sounded like. A smattering of, “Yes, Mr. Han,” came obediently, and they began surging forwards to take you by the hand, wrist, carefully guiding you off the bed. No questions were asked, not that their tongues were able to form any in the face of such intensity. Unable to resist, you willed yourself to follow their movements, falling into step.

Master’s approval didn’t come in the form of words, but in the form of his eyes lingering over yours with a hint of a smile on his lips. As expected, you always knew what he wanted, what he desired from you with no opposition at all. Everything he wanted, you’d give it to him. And he, too, would give the world to you if you desired it. All you had to do was to ask.

Ask and he’d bestow the world as your slave.

 

* * *

 

A cat turning into a human.

A preposterous thought.

A thought so preposterous, he whiled his hours away as he delved deeper into this mess.

This wicked mess of a bewitching beauty whose reflection remained a pale imitation of the real deal.

Jumin’s fingers hovering over the keys of his Vacbook paused as his eyes lingered at the sight. Facing Seoul’s skyline, watching the crescent waves of clouds drifting over the skies, you seemed content with your fate. Resigned, even. A pliant, malleable creature, able to be twisted and moulded with his bare hands. There was no resistance, not even a trace of it when the grooming ladies dragged you away hours ago. It was as though you were him and you possessed every bit of himself, knowing him, knowing his wants, knowing his _needs_.

You knew he wanted this. And you fought none of his lovely, grand ideas for Elizabeth 3rd.

The ladies gave you a through washing, he presumed, when he saw you emerging from the hallways with damp hair and a bathrobe earlier. As much as he would love to do the honours of grooming you himself, he knew his hands would never be able to replicate the intricacies of a woman’s hairstyle. The only thing he did was to direct and dissect their every move, uttering his preference for your cut, outlining what shades of lip glosses and lip tints to use, addressing the style and fabric of outfits for your wardrobe, and keeping a hawklike presence to monitor their activities.

From the looks of it, they were almost done by now. Putting the finishing touches to your outfit, spritzing your hair with a floral scent, hands fussing and petting all over you. Despite the discomfort he imagined you were undergoing, your expression betrayed none of it. Patiently waiting for them to finish, you stood by the wall-sized windows and continued gazing at the skies, at the skyscrapers, pressing a palm against the tempered glass and just staring at the world.

The world outside this glass cage of his.

Something about the distant look on your face bothered him.

Unconsciously, Jumin’s fingers curled into his palm.

It had only been a few hours since he accepted the inevitable truth of his cat metamorphosing into a human overnight. Only a few hours of interaction. Yet this feeling of wanting to—yearning to— _desiring_ to—

—Jumin closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, counting to ten.

It was better this way. Better because he couldn’t see the devastating beauty you’d become. If not, the desire to protectkeeptrap _lock_ ~~chain~~ would blind him. Even if he owned something, _someone_ , it wouldn’t be ethical to rob them away of their freedom. You were a cat. You were now a human. Whether or not the Universal Declaration of Human Rights applied to a unique case like you, he preferred not to delve into the semantics, but you were his. If you were his and if he were to stretch the boundaries to toe the fine line… perhaps you wouldn’t mind staying in here forever?

Not knowing the outside world, away from prying eyes and gossiping lips, away from the dredging society. Dependent on him and only him, seeing nothing but him, hearing nothing but him, and feeling nothing else but for him. Jumin’s eyes drift from gazing at your splendour to the assorted content of his household, which would now be your eggshell. A sofa, a bed, a television, a few gaming consoles, a laptop, a Persian rug, a kitchen, multiple bedrooms, a closet full of floaty dresses and a vanity bedecked with diamonds… he could think of a thousand more things to keep you entertained, but what would fit you best?

What would a human Elizabeth 3rd desire from him?

A book to read? No, he shook his head to clear up the ludicrous assumption. Jumin wasn’t sure if you were capable of reading. You seemed intelligent enough to understand the basic human conversations he held earlier, possibly through your extensive observation of his daily duties, but it never occurred to him whether or not you could read. Making a mental note to address this concern later, Jumin rose from his leather armchair and strode over to where you stood by the windows, bathed in the afternoon glow.

“Elizabeth 3rd,” he murmured, reaching your side. His workers withdrew from their task as soon as he appeared, retreating into the darkest recesses of his home with a reticent bow. Reaching out, his fingers caught a lock of your blow-dried hair and tucked it behind your ear, remembering to give you a little scratch while he was at it. “How do you feel now?”

Feeling was a subjective topic.

It was best for him to explore your feelings now than later.

For a moment, you paused, letting the silence stretch thinner than spiderweb. So thin until Jumin wondered if he could snap the strand with a nudge of his finger.

“It’s tight,” you finally answered, looking up at him.

He blinked, unsure of what he heard. “Tight?”

“Yes,” you said, a frown slanting your brows again. Breaking the eye contact, you looked towards your chest, where a delicate chiffon dress clung to your figure and fell in all the right curves of your body. Something about the dress seemed to bother you, judging from how your fingers picked insistently at the material. “It’s tight, I feel a bit uncomfortable, Master. Can’t I go back to wearing your shirt?”

As much as he loved the provocative image trespassing his mind, Jumin found himself frowning too as he observed how your fingers dipped into the folds of the chiffon, digging into the crease of your bra.

_Oh._ And quite suddenly, it made sense to him.

“You mean the bra, not the dress?” he asked.

When you looked at him again, this time, there was more confusion than ever, drawing your brows tightly. “Bra? Is that the name for it, Master?”

He nodded, leaning his back against the sun-warmed glass panes of the expansive windows. “Yes. Unfortunately, you’ll have to bear with it, even if it feels uncomfortable. I’d put your comfort above all rest, but it would pose a slight trouble if you don’t wear it. You—“

— _might catch the eyes of the security guards patrolling this house and if they were to fall for you, then I will have to result to_ —

“—are a human now,” he finished his sentence, carefully putting an end to the weeds of his thoughts before they manifest. “So it’ll be best for you to learn what a human does and how they go about their daily life. You’ll get used to it, sooner or later, and then you’ll feel nothing at all.”

A well-manicured lady of the highest pedigree. Yes. The image you gave was none other than a respectable woman from the highest standing of society, and it was his intention to keep you by his side forevermore. Someone who understood him wholly shouldn’t be released into the wilds. It would be a foolish action on his side.  He’d keep you until you understand how the world works, even if the world you knew was only contained within these four walls. It should be more than enough to make you stay.

“… if you say so, Master,” you said, only with traces of petulance in your voice as your fingers finally stopped picking on the outlines of the bra firmly cupping your breasts under the dress. Turning away from him, you gazed at the sea of skyscrapers again, sky blue eyes reflecting the tufts of white clouds scattered overhead.

Jumin tipped his head to the side, taking in the view. Your parted lips, roseate and glistening with a clear gloss, brought life to the overall paleness of your skin and your hair. White tipped lashes, white hair, white skin, everything about you was white. White was a colour requiring the greatest care and attention, easily absorbed by any other hue. If he wasn’t careful enough… sooner or later, he’ll dye you red.

“Elizabeth 3rd,” said Jumin before he could stop himself, “do you wish to go outside?”

The question must’ve caught you off guard. He saw you spinning on your bare heels, eyes wide, looking at him wordlessly. Maybe it was too soon for him to ask that, wholly inappropriate just when you were beginning to explore the wonders and splendours the human world had to offer. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t brought you out before; the wine yard, the garden, the airplane whenever he had to travel, he took you everywhere with him when Assistant Kang refused to take you under her care.

So why did a part of him longed to keep you behind this glass casing for just a little while longer?

“But why would I want to go outside when I’ve been happy staying inside with you, Master?” Pressing your hand against the warmed glass panes, you cast a look at the city. “This is the only world that I know. I don’t have anywhere else to go unless I’m going there with you.”

… his eyes darkened at your answer.

How could he chain someone who was willing to _stay_?

Your words were a sweet surrender of your freedom.  

And his self-restraint grew thinner, shadowing the tangles of his thoughts.

“If you prefer staying in here,” he murmured, low, “then I’ll find something for you to do so you won’t get bored.” _No_ , no, no, this was all wrong. “I’m sure there’s not much for you to entertain yourself when you were a cat, but now, maybe you can learn a few new things.” He couldn’t stop himself. “I’ll hire a few tutors to give you lessons on anything you like so you can learn more—“ More, more, and _more_ — “And if that’s not enough, you know you can ask me for whatever you want, princess.”

A shake of your head was all it took for him to fall silent, awaiting your reply.

“You know, Master, after becoming a human for the first time in my entire life, I understood something,” you spoke up. The topic seemed to diverge from what he proposed, but Jumin patiently waited to see where it went as you habitually licked your lips before continuing, “I’ve always wanted to be a human to be there for you, but there’re so many things I don’t understand about being one. It’s so difficult trying to live like this.”

Jumin’s eyes narrowed.

“Seeing how you have to go to work every day made me lonely, of course,” you went on, oblivious to how his lashes lowered and his lips parted with a breathy exhale. “But when I was a cat, there was nothing I could do but to wait for you to come back.”

Always _wanted_ to be a human.

“And when you finally came home, I got really excited because that means I get to spend more time with you, Master,” you admitted with a slight laugh— _ah,_ the sound sent small quivers up his nape and down his belly, settling in as a pool of warmth. “I like listening to you when you talk about your work, your life, your father… and also about the RFA.”

To _be there_ for him.

“When sometimes things go wrong and you’re sad, Master, I get sad too.” There were tinges of sorrow in your voice when you spoke those words, presumably referring to yesterday night’s turn of events. And he hated it. He hated the desolate sadness in your eyes, the furrow of your brows, the downturned curl of your lips. Every part of it. “It felt terrible when I could only watch and say something that you don’t understand. I couldn’t hold you when you’re sad, Master, and I couldn’t comfort you when you needed it too. It felt like I was… useless.”

Useless was the last word he’d use to describe your presence.

How you came to view yourself as useless was something he’d never figure out. You were never useless. Coming home after a long day at work, only to be greeted with your mewls and meows as you padded through the house to greet him—sometimes, coming home to a lick on the back of his hand was all he needed to lessen the loneliness within him. No other medicine would numb the solitude in his life other than your existence.

His hand caught yours on the window pane, lacing his fingers in between your slender ones. Just a little bit warm from the sun, just a little bit clammy like how a human should be. Not a plump paw with claws anymore. And that made all the difference in the world.

Carefully, Jumin drew you closer to him by a few steps, letting your body press up against him in a snug fit. It didn’t feel the same as before when he held your furry body in his hands, cradling you tight in the crook of his arm. You had always been a petite Persian, pressing your paws against his shoulder, licking his jaw whenever he took you around. But this was close enough for him to feel the heat radiating from your skin, marvelling at your slighter stature. This was more than _enough_.

“You were never useless, Elizabeth 3rd. You should know that by now,” he murmured, tightening your grasp in his. You looked up at him with those endlessly blue eyes of yours, an unspoken question at the tip of your tongue, and it was one he answered by pressing a finger to your lips. “You understood me better than any woman out there, even when you were a cat. When I’m with you, I feel I’m at peace.” He paused, letting you absorb the meaning of his words. “I don’t need to care about putting on a mask and facing the world, facing the company or even my father. I can be me when I’m together with you like this. So don’t say that about yourself….”

His hand pressed over yours on the glass, and another wrapped around your waist, rustling the cool chiffon dress. As your head gradually fell to rest against his chest, pressing your cheek against the silken material, Jumin allowed himself the faintest fraction of a second to smile. It was a panorama of a painting with him holding you close, illuminated by the afternoon sunlight falling in streaks on the marble floor.

The tranquil serenity of his penthouse remained unbroken.

A time he shared only with you.

And nobody else.

 

* * *

 

Master was a generous man. It was unfortunate that many misunderstood him and only saw ‘Jumin Han’ as a cold and calculative CEO of C&R, whose professional prowess rivalled those who’ve delved far longer into the business world. Women wooed him for his wealth whilst men envied the riches he possessed, but none saw him as a man shouldering a chip of the world on his shoulders. How could they fathom him when they never saw past his exterior of an affluent entrepreneur, not as another human soul?

Never once chastising you for your faults, Master guided you through your new skin. His patience in teaching you how to dine like a lady during lunch baffled the chef, who stood by the kitchen counter wearing a bemused smile. With each swish of your fork, guided by his hand, and a swish of your knife, he taught you how to slice through thick meat and spoon soup into your mouth. Your movements were awkward, unpractised like a newborn, but Master persevered and ensured you ate every scrap of food clean from your plate.

“You’re getting better and better,” he murmured his encouragement into your ear, laving your lobe with a gust of warm air. “We’ll practice this again during dinner, so do remember everything I’ve taught you, Elizabeth 3rd.”

Master’s words prickled your skin, raising miniscule bumps along your arms as you staved off a shiver. Human bodies were strange, you noted. So sensitive to sensations, so sensitive to external stimuli. There were many parts of your new limbs that you found pleasurable to touch, such as twining your fingers together with Master’s—or having him run his hands along your back, adjusting your posture. Everything Master did felt good and you couldn’t deny wanting more of his hands on you.

If Master had noticed the strange expression on your face, he obviously chose not to say a word about it. Instead, he took your cheek in his palm and gingerly brushed his thumb over your cheekbone, tracing absentminded circles over your skin.

Master had always been a man of action instead of words. Always.

And you loved every part of him.

“Seeing you like this makes me want to keep you in here forever,” he whispered, just barely audible in the ringing silence of the dining room. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but you caught the vacant look in Master’s hazy eyes, just murky greys muddled up with his thoughts. A monologue not meant for your ears, you presumed, but Master continued speaking in undertones, his voice hollow. “But I know I can’t. Things are going too fast in my mind right now… things that I preferred to save for another day, but a part of me worries about tomorrow. What if suddenly I wake up from my sleep and find that this was all just another elaborate dream? That would’ve been a very, very cruel trick from God…”

Standing before your dining chair whilst you remained seated, palming your cheek, Master was the very image of a man with a plateau of problems. But the years have taught him to shroud his sorrows, keeping them veiled from the public eye. Only in lapses of his weakness like this, he’d share his most intimate thoughts with you.

Tipping your head into his palm, you released a sigh of contentment. “This isn’t a dream. Or at least to me, it feels very real, Master.”

“Perhaps,” was his vague response, still absently thumbing your cheekbone as he explored his mind. “But just thinking about how much I want to own you… worries me. If this were a dream, then I could possibly get away with it without answering to the law. Even though I’m trying to take things one step at a time because I want to introduce you to my world, an irrational part of me just wants to cave in to my desires.” A bleak chuckle fell from his lips devoid of a smile. “Within less than eight hours of meeting your human form, I already want to possess every part of you. Don’t you feel terrified to hear that?”

Was this supposed to come as a surprise to you?

No, not really.

Resting your hands on your thighs, you mulled over the appropriate response. One that held an undeniable fact, something you couldn’t fight against. For it was the truth. “I’m yours, Master.”

His hand on your cheek stilled.

“I’ve always been yours ever since Rika and V gave me to you. I can’t imagine a place without you at all,” you wryly admitted with a sigh as you searched your fuzzy memories, piecing the shreds together. “I know nothing about the world outside this penthouse and I’m scared to think if there’ll be a day where you’ll lose interest in me, Master. So hearing that you wish to keep me here… it’s actually a great relief for me. I’m happiest when I’m here with you, Master, so please don’t leave me.”

Shrill silence followed the lasts of your words.

Master remained quiet, but his eyes bore into yours—searching, desperately searching for something within. You graced him with the same courtesy of allowing him to gather his thoughts, letting him form an apt decision. Sometimes, Master’s insecurities ran deeper than others, manifesting only when the nights grow cold and lonely. He had everything he could call his own, but never someone who wanted to stay with him. Someone to listen to his plights and to take in his burdens. Someone to share his solace and to offer him what he yearned the most.

When Master finally spoke, his words were so quiet, you might’ve not heard him at all if his lips weren’t moving.

“What did I ever do to deserve someone as kind and understanding as you, Elizabeth 3rd?”

What a silly question coming from someone like him. What a silly, silly question indeed.

Slowly, rather uncertainly, you wrapped your arms around Master’s waist and leaned forward until you could rest your cheek against his torso. His body tensed at your unexpected touch, but he didn’t push you away. And you were glad. Oh so glad.

“You gave me your world, Master,” you whispered, closing your eyes as darkness consumed you whole. “And now, I’ll give you mine." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next time on His Paper Garden of Madness:**   
>  _Your name fell from his lips like a prayer, tainted with an unnamed fervour you’d never heard before. A voice full of restraint, caution, a warning for you to heed. But cats, ah, cats and their curiosity, always ready to test out what doesn’t kill them. Knees pressed into the mattress, palms braced against his taut chest, fingers flexing into his pinstriped shirt. Your hair cascading over his body, a silken curtain falling over his forearms, his hands. His fingers tightly fisted the tips of your hair, clutching on them as though it was a rein over his rapidly deteriorating self-control._
> 
> **Notes:**  
>  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) dat stuff in the next chapter tho  
> As usual, thanks so much for the overwhelming amount of kudos! Thanks for the lovely comments left behind too, those rly made my day <3 The plot proceeds in the next chapter... where we have a certain character we all love to hate 8) let the hate begin~


	5. Animals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _(:’3 I am terribly late in updating. But hey I got my studies out of the way so that’s a yay! Incredibly overdue chapter ahead! Also, I've started writing for Final Fantasy XV if anyone's interested in checking it out <3 much love goes to the readers who kept leaving kudos and reminding me to update this fic! <3 this is for you guys!

Love breeds lunacy. 

It was the only logical explanation for this manifestation of madness blooming in his heart. 

To chain, to lock, to trap you away forever in this penthouse forevermore. Sheer innocence drove you to admit he was your lifeline, he was your key to the world, and as an owner, he should educate you of the humanly ways. But there were underlying urges of blinding you from other humans, depriving you of their contact. Wrenching away each and every single thing that could threaten your safety since you were one of them now. 

Still, Jumin had a goal to accomplish. Getting distracted wouldn’t do.

His security guards exited and entered at his every order, bringing everything he thought you would fancy. Cute kitten heels (‘Ha,’ he mused, recalling your kitten days, watching you stumble in the shoes as you practiced walking), racks of cashmere and silken dresses lining the bars, alongside tinkling bracelets and jingling anklets to adorn your slender limbs. Your collar—or choker—would be a bespoke creation, of course, embedded with a tracking chip and to be delivered upon completion. 

He could never be too careful. Not with you. 

The brilliant afternoon turned to a shadowy evening, blue skies drenched crimson as the colours conflict over your pale tresses. Fragments of sunlight fell over your face as you squinted at the sinking sun, watching dark shadows grow on the walls. A minute turned into two, bringing a whole thirty minutes to pass in a heartbeat. And as the night skies finally washed over the city, studded with stars overhead, you turned to him with the most beautiful smile on your lips, excitement in your eyes—

“The scenery is so beautiful, Master,” you gushed, pointing skyward. 

With a shake of his head, Jumin corrected you. “No, Elizabeth 3rd, you’re beautiful.”

—ah, he never thought he’d see the day where a scarlet flush dusted your cheeks at his sincere admission, your lips parted wordlessly. 

And that, that was truly beautiful.

* * *

To eat, to bathe, and to clothe; these were the norm in every human’s life. To talk, to laugh, to smile; these were actions humans perform, whether consciously or not. 

With Master’s patience, you mimicked his actions and made them your own. Every slice of his knife over the dinner steak, you followed without a word—only a frown when the tender meat wouldn’t give way under your ministrations. Chin parallel to the ground, half-lidded eyes, Master made sure his every action was replicable, neither too hard nor too complex to follow. He raised the fork to his lips and took a bite, chewing, swallowing. Slice, chew, swallow. Slice. Chew. Swallow. 

Master was looking. 

You sliced. You chewed. You swallowed. 

His dark, steely eyes followed the bob of your throat when the meat finally passed through, trailing down your innards. You recognised that look because you were an animal. A look of hunger. But as though your action finally appeased him, he resumed clearing his plate with surgical precision, each move a habitual practice groomed from his upbringing. He noiselessly finished his meal without a single clatter of silver against porcelain, whilst yours scratched and screeched every now and then. 

A dart of his tongue ran over his bottom lip, cleaning up any remaining sauce. Your eyes remain trained on the spit-slick lip, entranced. Only Master could make such an expression into a work of art.

Once the tables were cleared and the chef bade goodbye for the night, you obediently followed Master where he returned to his bed once more. When he sat on the bedside, crisp sheets crumpling underneath his weight, you followed suit. Perhaps Master anticipated your eagerness for he laved your tresses with his hand, raking through the gentle fall of your hair over your shoulders, his fingers tucking in stray locks behind your ear. His affection was infectious and you couldn’t help but to return it with a gentle nudge of your head into his palm, nuzzling into his touch. 

“How did you enjoy your first day as a human, my princess?” 

How?

How indeed.

Your lashes fluttered, your throat dry. Master’s cool fingers felt so good on your heated skin, putting a perfect ending to your hectic day. A day of being human, learning to utilise your body to the fullest like what Master wanted. Lips brushing against his palm as his fingers toyed with your earlobe, you sighed. “I had so much fun, Master. I got to see so many people coming in and out of this house and you taught me so many lessons—there’re so many things to do too, like eating together with you, and letting you decide what to do next. I love it lots.”

“You do?” His voice was a quiet hum, punctuated with the briefest of smile on his lips. “What else did you love about today?”

A question with an answer too obvious, you thought. “I love being able to touch you properly, Master.”

As Master allowed you nuzzle his palm, your hand reached out, fingers gingerly grazing against his sharp jawline. The first brush of your skin against his made his jaw clench, fraught lines surfacing on his neck. His breathing stilled. His eyes hardened. The atmosphere changed into something disquieting. For a moment, you held your breath, gazing at the misty greys in Master’s eyes unfurling into a terrible, terrible storm. That very same look reflected again, a pang of insatiable hunger. 

A hunger you couldn’t comprehend.

Words failed you the moment Master’s hand snuck around your waist, settling on the small of your back. A quick jerk of his arm was all it took for you to collapse into his embrace as he fell backwards on the mattress, easily pulling you atop him. Your eyes widened. Sprawled over his broad chest, cheek pressed against his shirt, one thigh wedged between his legs—warm, a solid thump, thump, thump somewhere inside Master overlapping with the tick, tock, tick, tock of the clock.

Master held you against him, an arm draped over your back, gently caressing the notches of your spine. This tangle of limbs wasn’t unpleasant, but. But. Master’s actions felt just too good, muddling your consciousness. With his hand still cupping your cheek, lying flush on top of him, fitting right in the nooks and crannies where his large body easily cradled your petite frame, everything felt perfect. Just so perfect, reminiscent of the days where you loved to crawl on his body and curl yourself right on his chest, sleeping for the night. 

By nature, cats were greedy creatures. Always yearning for attention and affection, wanting to be cuddled and kissed, praised and petted. Being with Master like this, held oh so intimately, ignited a craving to be touched that only Master could fulfil. 

“Are you comfortable, my lady?” he asked, his voice a low rumble you heard from deep within his chest. Lying still, Master avoided moving, perhaps out of consideration for your comfort. Only his hands continued working, one mapping the ridges of your spine to your buttocks, and the other languidly stroking the special spot behind your ear. “If you’re still not comfortable, let me know how I can make this better for you. I’d like you to have a good night’s rest after such a splendid performance as a human being.”

Greedy, greedy.

Your eyes half-lidded. 

Giddy, giddy. 

You loved having Master’s hands on you, but it wasn’t enough. 

Lovesick animal.

Licking your lips, a pale imitation of Master’s previous action.

Slowly, you began pushing yourself off his body, arms braced by his sides. Master’s hands fell on the mattress, temporary confusion clouding his expression at your sudden movement. Each and every sluggish pull of your limbs against Master had his breath hitching, his eyes narrowing, his lips parting to suck in a quick breath of air—especially when your knee between his legs brushed against his inner thigh, eliciting a throaty groan and a brief closing of his eyes.

And when they reopen, full-blown pupils gazed back at you in a heady stare. 

“Elizabeth 3rd…”

Your name fell from his lips like a prayer, tainted with an unnamed fervour you’d never heard before. A voice full of restraint, caution, a warning for you to heed. But cats, ah, cats and their curiosity, always ready to test out what doesn’t kill them. Knees pressed into the mattress, palms braced against his taut chest, fingers flexing into his pinstriped shirt. Your hair cascading over his body, a silken curtain falling over his forearms, his hands, his fingers. His fingers tightly fisted the tips of your hair, clutching on them as though it was a rein over his rapidly deteriorating self-control. 

“Elizabeth 3rd…” Master repeated this time, just a little breathless, just a little husky. “… what are you trying to do? You’re making it very difficult for me to… control myself.”

You tipped your head back slightly at the word. “Control?” A bob of his throat. A breathy exhale. Your eyes trailed after each and every action Master did, learning what puts him at ease and what wrecks his nerves. Shifting your weight to part your thighs, you dug your knees into the mattress as you straddled Master’s hips. That very motion alone was enough to darken Master’s irises, lacing them in hunger. “You never had to control yourself with me, Master, so why start now?”

When Master spoke again, his voice held a darker undertone to it, an unspoken threat lingering in the air. “A very compelling argument… but I’m a man of restraint.”

Master always spoke nothing but the truth and the absolute truth. But sitting on him like this granted you a view not many afforded. With his sleek black hair tousled back, the bright lights overhead juxtaposed him against his white sheets. It highlighted the lies he withheld on his tongue, words of his crumbling control. Fingers still tightly grabbing your tresses, forearms fraught with sickly green veins, every single inch of him fought against something. But what did he want to control himself from doing? You didn’t know. 

If he didn’t want to say it, then you wouldn’t force him. 

He’d talk about it eventually. That was how he was, and there was no changing him. 

Your eyes traced the frown on his forehead, over the tip of his nose, down the supple curve of his lips. Down, down his jawline, skittering over his bobbing throat, and finally settling on the crook of his neck. Yes, that looked quite nice. Whenever Master used to hold you against his chest, you’d paw his face and struggled to put your head on his shoulder, trying to nose his scent. You loved inhaling his musk—everything about Master’s scent was addictive, intoxicating, and you wanted more and more of it. 

It never changed, not at all. 

You gently began to lower yourself once again, bringing your head to the special little spot where you could hook your chin over his shoulder. It felt right when you were a cat, and it still felt right now that you were a human. Nose brushing against his neck, so close to the pulsing veins. Here, Master smelled lesser of the things he spritzed himself with, and more of the natural musk you loved. As you released a sigh of contentment, finding this position just right, Master’s body tensed underneath yours. 

“Princess…” he murmured, so soft, so brittle, but there were still faint warnings lining his voice. “You’re testing my self-control, aren’t you? Is this what it’s all about?”

Again with the ‘control’ issue. You almost huffed at him if not for the fact that you were pressed so close, you could easily brush your lips against his heated skin. “Master…” you returned his murmur with one of your own, feeling the rise and fall of his chest gently rocking your body in time with his. “You know you can always talk to me about anything, right? That’s why I’m here. I’ll never ever go away from your side, Master. I promise. So please… don’t control yourself with me.”

Sliding your thighs down his sides, your hands blindly grappled on the sheets to seek his. It wasn’t long before you found them, your fingers prying his from its death grip on your hair, carefully filling his hand with your own. One finger for each gap, two fingers, three fingers, four fingers finally filling in the empty spaces in between, sticky palms pressed together. Each shuddering breath Master took, you returned it with a little squeeze on his hands, a silent encouragement for him to continue. 

It took Master a long while before he finally found the words he wished to say.

“I promised to keep you safe, Elizabeth 3rd… and if I can’t even keep you safe from myself, who will?”

* * *

Sleep had always eluded him, fine sands of time slipping between his fingers. Tonight was no different; again, sleep failed to grace him with its kindness, leaving him awake and counting the seconds with your heartbeat. Lonely, restless nights of clutching his phone and staring at the messenger screen were replaced with something else, something new in its nature but something entirely old in its existence. Holding Elizabeth 3rd in his arms, cradling your furry body as you lay asleep on his chest, little purrs of contentment filling the night. That had been the norm until the sun tears the darkness apart as dawn approaches.

Now, the balmy breaths fanning his nape felt disconcertingly intimate—a newer form of skinship between him and you. How easily you went pliant as he held you, a hand on your back and an arm around your waist. Your breathing evened out, giving way to the private pleasure of sleeping on him. And just like that, seconds drifted into minutes, and minutes melted into hours. Hours that he spent on stroking your back, fingers tracing the lax curvature of your spine, tangled in your hair. 

Jumin couldn’t see the sort of face you made as you slept, but he fancied the thought of a little smile on your lips as you dreamt of him. A little silly, indulgent thought because what would cats dream of? Flying fish and gourmet salmon, just like how androids would dream of electronic sheep? 

Yet, no matter how silly the dream could be, he felt no desire to chase away those thoughts. Being together with you had been a reprieve. With you, he wasn’t an icon of wealth and power—he was just a simple owner of a cat, a man who only wanted the best for his pet and nothing more. No fancy charades of political powers coming into play, marriages of convenience and glitzy controversies donning front-page magazines. Just Jumin Han, a man who owned a lovely cat by the name Elizabeth 3rd. 

In your hazy sleep, your lips mouthed words on his skin, burrowing your face deeper into the crook of his neck. 

He couldn’t quite catch the airy sighs, but he found peace in how you sought solace in him. Desperately, tenderly. Desperately clinging onto him, tenderly seeking his warmth. Knowing he was your only link to this world and your survivability depended solely on him. By his own hands, he will mould you into a vessel of beauty, painting panoramas on the porcelain of your skin. His Elizabeth 3rd, and only his. 

By the time Jumin finished mapping your vertebrae, fingers dipping into the notches between T6 to T9, the sun splits the skies from the horizon. He’d seen the sunrise countless of times through his many sleepless nights, but never one like this. Never one where the ambers chased away the dark clouds, draping over the skyscrapers. A brilliant ochre blankets your hair, lending it an otherworldly glow. The smudge of warmth on your glacial whiteness chased away all frigidity of his vacant mornings. Just like the small purrs from your throat. 

As much as he detested the idea of parting from his Elizabeth 3rd, duty calls. Disentangling his limbs from yours, careful enough not to awaken the sleeping beauty, he trudged towards the bathroom. Everything else was a habitual routine of his; the warm shower hitting his skin, the bathrobe cradling his body, the quiet patter of his feet as he returned to the bedroom. His sleeping beauty remained unaware of the world, a delectable curve to your spine as you slept on your stomach where he last sat. 

The very image of bliss etched on your face made him yearn to chase it away just to see the blues of your eyes and a smile on your lips—all his, all for him and him only. 

Somewhere near you, an object glows. Resting on the bedside table, his phone’s notification light gleams blue, an indication of unread messages. And from the looks of it, it seemed that the messages are piling up. Jumin’s eyes rested on the object for a second before turning away. 

Lately the chatroom came to life with the appearance of a new member; an unexpected, yet welcomed presence after Luciel performed background checks on her data. As much as he had welcomed her into his life, welcomed the distraction and pleasant phone calls in between, your sudden manifestation stole all of his attention and left him little to spare with the chats. He’d remain aware of Assistant Kang’s messages and worried calls yesterday, questioning him on his sudden absence in both the office and the chatroom, but now wasn’t the right time to tell her everything. 

Perhaps on a later date, he’d consider informing her of your existence.

Perhaps. 

Adjusting the Bibienne Westwood cufflinks, Jumin approached your bedside to wish you farewell when the sound of his doorbell resonated through the house. A strange phenomenon, but it did occur from time to time if Assistant Kang visited him. Jumin caught the restless stir in your limbs and carefully adjusted the blanket covering your feet, pulling it up to your shoulders. At the sound of the doors opening, Jumin awaited the steady clip-clop clip-clop of Assistant Kang’s shoes to announce her arrival. 

What came instead was a nauseating potpourri of perfume that sears up his nostrils, a stench that could easily be classified as toxic waste. Flaming magenta tresses billow in the breeze, accompanied by the disastrous offset of a purple dress clinging to a voluptuous frame. Jumin’s rather concerned with her tragic wardrobe choices, but there’s nothing he can do to rectify it. After all, this person is the maid. And maids can’t afford such luxuries of complementary clothes with their salaries. 

She turned to him with a brilliant smile, raking her crimson nails through her hair with a slight laugh. “Jumin…? Hello, surprise! I came to surprise you!”

A surprise? There’s no surprising him if he already knew who she was. Her attitude is, at best, untrained yet expected for someone of her stature. He made a mental note to ask someone to retrain her in the future. Without batting an eyelash, Jumin muttered, “Oh. You must be the maid.”

Something in the air must’ve changed as soon as the words left his mouth. Even the heavy makeup on her face failed to conceal the obvious distaste, especially in her affronted tone. “What?”

“My assistant will contact you,” he continued, turning away in mute disinterest as he rested a hand on your sleeping shoulder, offering you his reassuring presence as you continue your slumber. “We can schedule to meet then. Please excuse us.”

It was then she only realised she had company. “Us!?”

“Yes, us,” Jumin echoed, albeit tersely. All this high-pitched noise pollution was starting to rouse you from your much-needed slumber; he could tell from the little trembles on your shoulder, and he absolutely cannot have you waking up if you weren’t well rested enough. Narrowing his eyes, he gestured towards the door. “If that’s all, leave. I’ll get someone to call you later, Sunja Kim.”

“Sunja Kim!?” her voice climbed an octave higher, a feat Jumin thinks impossible, but she proved him wrong. With a hand resting over her heavy chest, she heaved a deep breath and sighed. “Jumin… I’m Sarah, and I’m not a maid. Mr. Chairman said he’d like for us to get engaged when I met him last night.” She paused, eyes darting quickly over your blanketed figure, and heaved a heavier sigh. “… who is she?”

An engagement? Others would’ve felt shocked at her flagrant announcement; he felt nothing of the sort, save for annoyance. Lies, deceit, they would wag their tongues for anyone who promises them the high life of Seoul. One slander after another had rendered him indifferent to their proclamations, and he’d rather have her escorted out of his room than risking rousing you from your slumber. 

Without as much as a blink, Jumin gave his judgment on the matter, a judgment befitting one with her nature: 

“You do not deserve the honour of knowing her. And I don’t believe I’ve heard anything about my engagement to someone like you. My assistant will speak to you on a later date after I’ve reaffirmed what you said. Now, leave. You’re disturbing her sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> certain things pick up in the next chapter when MM plot comes into play. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


End file.
